Standing next to our coffee maker, I glanced at the wall in the dining room with the stunning pictures of the wedding days for our three children. The ticking of the clock in the living room broke the utter silence of the house as I looked out at the bustling wind and twirling leaves. Fall arrived again with all of the pumpkin recipes that we share, long afternoon getaways to see the colors, hot cider and hot chocolate on the menu once again, and a click of the furnace to warm up the walls of our old farmhouse.
I mused that day about the fact that no manual can prepare you for parenthood; additionally, no manual can prepare you for the empty nest. You have to find your way somehow. After the three weddings of our children and after all the bins of their stuff like baseball trophies, college notebooks, photo albums, school jerseys, and pressed roses were taped up and sent off to their new homes, we began to find our way in a new normal. Since 1979, Dave and I have been grateful for a deep friendship, lots of laughter together, and many adventures of faith. And although we are thrilled about our sons-in-law and our daughter-in-law, we have at times felt the “hole” of not having more time with the wonderful people that God gave us—two daughters and a son— for the time during their childhood and young adult years which flew by like the snap of our fingers.
Today as I stared outside, I contemplated some lessons from an empty nest: (1) Treasure memory-recalling; in the end, those memories are all that we have. In the making of memories, it’s easy to revel in the time together in the moment. But reflect as well on the past memories with joy. Dig out the old pictures together, or scan the photos on the computer. Remember the time that we had so much snow that we made a huge slide on the farm roof, and the landing was a huge pile of snow? Remember the time you flooded the front yard for a skating rink? And remember driving down our long driveway pulling kiddoes on a snow saucer as they flew back and forth from snow bank to snow bank? Along with all those precious memories, now we are making memories with eight grandchildren Memory-making and memory-recalling help us in the reality of the empty nest.
Along with memory-recalling, (2) choose never to be offended in present relationships. When our children were married, Dave reminded me each time at each of the weddings of one thing: “Judi, they are their own family now. We are parents, but we stop parenting today.” The job of being mother is constant, overwhelming, emotional, trying, frustrating, fantastic, and many other adjectives in row. But here is what happens. Mothering stops in one day—the wedding day of your children. If anyone tells you that that process is easy—shrug it off. We are still Mom, but we are now guests in their homes like any other guest. That reality is challenging to say the least—another reality of the empty nest.
I remember being in our oldest daughter’s home for a Thanksgiving dinner soon after they were married. We were bustling around the kitchen having a great time. We pulled the turkey from the oven. I called for “Dad” to come to carve the turkey. Our daughter gently touched my arm: “Mom, it’s not Dad’s job to carve the turkey in our house; it’s Rob’s job.” At that moment, I could have been offended. But I chose not to be offended. I loved my daughter and son-in-law too much to have hurt feelings. I asked Julie’s forgiveness for not thinking. She understood. They were building their own memories. Being easily offended can build walls to the point where we will not even know our children anymore as they age. Choosing our battles is crucial in enjoying the empty nest along with further nurturing our friendships with our adult children. We must choose not to be offended.
Another lesson that I have learned in my new normal these past few years is to (3) over-communicate to all of the adults and children. I don’t mean over-communicate in the sense that you should call everyone every day through FaceTime. What I mean is that if you have news or ideas or plans, let all of them know so that everyone is kept in the loop. I’m assuming that everyone has moved away. But the same may be true of having adult children and their children nearby. Let me share an example with you to help you to further understand my point.
My mother-in-law lived with us on our farm. She was very active at work, and she sometimes traveled even though she was in her 80s. She made plans without telling us to go to see our two daughters, their husbands, and the great-grandchildren in Colorado. I asked Grandma, “Have you communicated the trip details to both Julie and Jennie?” She replied, “Yes.” I should have probed further with the girls, but this was Grandma’s trip, and she was very insistent that she had communicated. She had told Jennie, but she had not said a word to Julie. Jennie assumed that Grandma had communicated with Julie. She had not. So this whole thing became a jumbled mess. Poor Julie had made plans to travel across the country during that same weekend. I got caught in the middle because I was frankly in the dark. Even Grandma’s plane tickets had been arranged by my brother-in-law. So I was hands off.
Well, the trip became a bigger deal than it should have been, and we gradually worked out the kinks of who told whom what and when. But the process was painful to say the least. I’m simply saying that when family are far apart or even close by, anything important like travel or an illness that is serious, or a new job, or a special occasion, or a unique summer trip, or holiday plans must be over-communicated with everyone. This process saves lots of hurt feelings and un-welcomed surprises.
Something else helpful when maneuvering the waters of an empty nest is (4) take lots of pictures and plan lots of fun when you do get together for holidays or other special occasions. We older folks may not be used to crying toddlers and fighting siblings and noisy houses and constant laundry and changing diapers and making meals for 17 people; however, the craziness is part of the fun. Ironically, what makes the best memories? The crazy camping trip that everyone wants to forget—but when that trip comes up in conversation, it generates the most laughter. Remember the time that we went camping and it was 95 degrees, and everyone pretended to be having a fun time. And Marla had to sleep on the electric cords for the fans, but she didn’t say a word? Remember the time that we all met at a beautiful Wisconsin resort, and everyone got the flu and spent the week throwing up? I fear that some empty nesters avoid get-togethers because they have established their perfect world with their perfect schedule. But if we can find room to be unselfish, we’ll dive into the wild fray, and we’ll once again make plenty of memories. Grandchildren need their Papa and Nana or Grandpa and Grandma. Because that two-week time at Christmas is soon passed, the return to home and a quiet farmhouse is relaxing and routine; but the hubbub of the family together could not have been more special.
Finally, I think the biggest lesson that I’ve learned as an empty nester is (5) to express love and support constantly. I guess I’d say it this way: “Stop instructing your adult children, and spend time listening.” I have wanted to change things in their lives because I thought they were making wrong decisions; but most of the time if not all, they made an excellent decision based on well-thought-out plans. I have learned to cast my care on God if I thought something was going awry in their lives. I have never regretted one time leaning on God rather than spewing my opinion. This is a typical prayer of mine when I am distressed regarding one of our children: “God, you are the creator of the universe. You are a wonderful, loving Father. I know that you care far more for my child than I could ever care for him or her. God, would you intervene if the decision that they are making is in error. I know that you are good and sovereign; you care for the sparrow and the lily. I know you care for them. Please guide them clearly.”
I will probably be schooled in the coming years, and I will probably have many more lessons to list besides the five that I have shared here. Sometimes I am saddened when I hear of adult children being separated from their own parents because the parents insist that their adult children comply with their wishes instead of letting them be their own families. You must live near us. Why don’t you call more often? We insist that you come to our house for Christmas. Why are you attending that church? We don’t like that church. You should discipline your children better. These statements make me say, “Ouch.” That hurts. These selfish statements divide families and make the empty nest a sad place indeed. I would rather get together with family where we are actually glad to see one another rather than pretending that we are glad to be together as some are.
We have printed and posted a verse in three rooms of our home for our empty nest years: “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good, and not for disaster—to give you a future and a hope” (Jeremiah 29:11). This verse promises, in a broad application, great hope in an empty nest time of our lives.